Blood Moon Rising
by lovemesomelongmire
Summary: What we see is not always what is. What we believe isn't always the truth...What happened to Walt and Vic in S4? Well, I'm hoping the above applies...Season 4 spoilers!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes :**

 **\- I don't even know what to say. Thinking about S4...I vowed I'd never watch Longmire again after only 2 eps. What the hell happened? Lucky for me, I found someone to talk me off the ledge. She's given me hope, pointed out things to me that I can catch hold of and hang on to. I guess this story, starting off so very small, is my way of hanging on. I had to get this out of me, so bear with me. For all of you Vic and Walt fans, I hope you see the hope and that S5 actually gives us real hope...**

 **...and one more thing...I started a group on FB to celebrate Vic and Walt and all that they can be together, the way we shippers want them to be. If any of you are interested in joining, just PM me here and I'll welcome you with the openest of arms.**

 **BLOOD MOON RISING**

To the world, I have become dark and cold. I've slammed shut the doors. I'm guarding my heart. I'm trying to forget everything that went on before.

I've sent her away. Within arm's reach, but away, just the same. I've fought with my jealousy while closing doors for her as well, but I just couldn't help myself.

The woman I want is gone from me. Perhaps the woman I need is the one with me now. The other one, she sent her to me, the motivation muddled, unclear, but here she is.

I play the piano. It's been a long time. I'm rusty, but the melody works itself out. Jazz. Slow and sexy. She comes to sit beside me on the bench. I feel her there, but I can't look at her. I stop playing. She's so close to me. I lean over. I nuzzle her neck and take in her warmth. I take in her scent and my body, long-denied, responds. I take her mouth, eyes closed. As long as I can't see who she is, I can pretend who I want her to be…

My hands run through her hair as she kisses me back. Lightly at first, both of us hesitant. I don't want to be doing this, but I need to do this! It's wrong, but it's right, if I want to stay apart from that world I shut out. I can start to move on with this. I can start by going somewhere I'd never gone with the other. I can be that new man and convince myself that this is the way it's meant to be.

I kiss her. I touch her. I fondle her while she fondles me…but I still can't look at her. I can taste her, tease her, admire her as she pulls her shirt over her head and bares her breasts before me. I can desire her and breath heavy for her.

I can lust for her, carry her to my bed. Lay her down. I can explore her, enjoy her, but I still can't look at her face…

I can worship her naked body with my hands, my lips, while she explores mine with hers. I can grasp her and cup her and roll myself on top of her, but I still can't look at her face…

…and while the rest of me is burning with desire, my heart stays cold. Frozen. Isolated in a grave of my own making. The only twinge it feels is when I let myself slip, in mind and in to her, and think, if I open my eyes, will it be _her_?

But I know it 's not, so I don't do it. I can't do it…but I can do everything else. Because underneath it all, I'm just a man. I'm just a a man trying to excise the ghosts of my past. Just a man trying to run away from what I tell myself is wrong when I know that once upon a time, it was all so right…

…but that was all before Branch died and when he did, so did the man I used to be...

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	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note** :

Even writing this makes me sad.

 **BLOOD MOON RISING - Ch. 2**

I should be on my way to work, but I can't move. I'm staring at the picture of me and Walt outside that motel room in Arizona. The happiest I'd ever been, according to Sean…

I'm lying in my bed. Not technically even my own bed. It's the bed in Cady's spare room and I guess it's my own fault I ended up here, but I never saw this coming. I never saw any of this coming…

One minute, I'm on my way to Walt's. He hadn't been home when I'd called him, so I'd left a message, but then I'd thought, what the hell? – he's probably just outside, doing chores or taking care of Horse, so I'd hopped in my truck. I'd stopped at the liquor store, bought a six-pack of Rainier and headed out to his place.

Giddy as a schoolgirl, nervous as a pronghorn in hunting season, but foolishly somewhat proud of myself for being the one to make the first move. I mean, he asked me to stay. In the end and through it all, he'd wanted me to stay and so I had.

No more Sean to worry about. No more ghost of Martha flitting around the place. I was free and so was Walt, so why the hell not?

God, I worked with the man every day and yet it felt like I was going to see him for the first time. I guess knowing and more importantly, acknowledging that I was in love with him changed everything!

How brightly the sun had shone that day, how sweet the air had been. How wonderful it was to feel in love for the first time in a very long time…maybe for the first time, ever!

I pictured meeting him as I pulled up. Maybe he was chopping wood on this fine day, in a t-shirt or even bare-chested. God, would I be able to handle that? Phew, maybe not!

Okay, go with the t-shirt. Watch his muscles bunch and flow beneath the soft cotton. Watch him straighten up and wipe his brow as he sees me pull up. See that wonderful smile of his as I get out of the truck bearing ice cold beer. I'd be like an angel sent from Rainier heaven to him!

Of course , I wanted to be so much more to him and that's why I'd headed out to his place that sunny, beautiful day, dressed up a bit, shirt provocatively unbuttoned just to the point of barely decent, but hey, it was about time I showed him what lay underneath that damn uniform of mine!

I knew he'd be happy to see me showing up at his place, unexpected. We'd shared so much, had gotten so close. Both of us had survived, made it through Chance Gilbert, David Ridges and even Branch. All the dark times were behind us. The only lingering cloud was Jacob Nighthorse…and we'd get him. Together, Walt and I would bring that bastard down, Martha would finally rest in peace and Walt and I could get on with getting on….

Maybe I should've waited until Nighthorse was behind us, too….but I just couldn't. I'd waited long enough. I wanted to get on with me and Walt. I wanted to know what it was like to kiss him, to have him kiss me. I already knew what it felt like to be in his arms and even in my shock and confusion back there in the hospital with him, I'd still felt the heat of his bare chest against my face while he held me and I cried.

His arms so strong and tight around me, holding me, keeping me safe and I'd felt and heard the beating of his heart and up until that point, I wasn't sure if we'd survived Chance Gilbert, but his heartbeat, his closeness, his arms around me, assured me that we had…

The plain and simple truth that day as I headed towards his place was that I wanted him! I wanted his arms around me again and this time, there'd be no tears. Only the heat of his body against mine. The sound of his heart, beating faster as I ran my hands up his chest. I'd stand on my tiptoe, take that oh, so handsome face of his in my hands, inviting him to bend down just a bit so that at long, sweet last, our lips would meet, and then…

I was thinking those thoughts as I bounded up the stairs to his front door. He hadn't been outside, chopping wood, which had been a shame, but not the end of my fantasy. I could adapt.

What I hadn't expected when the door opened, was to find Henry standing there, that quirky little smile of his greeting me. He'd never been a part of any fantasy I'd had concerning Walt. He was the last thing I expected to see that fine day and his presence was like a bucket of cold water thrown right in my face.

Ahhh, shit!

"Did I miss something while I was in jail?" he'd asked, sounding and looking all innocent, as only Henry could.

I'd hid the beer behind my back.

Didn't know why, but it had seemed the thing to do. Unfortunately, that hasty action of mine had only enhanced the openness of my shirt and I'd known Henry had taken note of that. I was left stumbling and stammering my way through a lame explanation that I'd just happened to stop by to see Walt only to be told by Henry that Walt wasn't home.

Why oh why hadn't I noticed that his truck wasn't around? Because, I'd been blind to everything except the fantasy of finally getting him alone, away from the office, away from anything and anyone that might just keep us apart…

…and I'd really hated Henry at that moment.

His opening that door had killed my fantasy and it all went downhill from there. A few days later, finding Branch dead in the river marked the death of anything that might have been between Walt and I.

It marked the death of EVERYTHING…

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	3. Blood Moon Rising - Ch3

**Author's note:**

 **Oh, Walt...**

 **I really wish you hadn't done it. All I can say is that I hope and pray that my story is nothing like what will happen in S5, at least this part of it, anyway...**

 **BLOOD MOON RISING - Ch.3**

I am haunted.

Even in the throes of this, whatever _this_ is, I can't escape.

Branch's death seemed to be the culmination of every regret I'd ever had, acknowledged or otherwise and no matter how hard I tried to block all of it, it was with me.

So many regrets…

I should have taken the opportunity to talk about it all, instead of turning to her as she sat beside me at the piano. I should've opened my mouth to speak instead of opening it to kiss her. I should've used the chance she gave me to get it all out with words…

…instead of using her like this, to get it all out with actions. It wasn't working.

I wanted it to – God, how I wanted it to! – but it only seemed to be making things worse. I wanted to make love to her, but that was part of the problem. This wasn't about love. This was sex, plain and simple. There was nothing tender or loving about it. It was merely a way to purge myself, to get rid of some of the things inside of me, a means to an end…but the end was eluding me.

I couldn't finish what I'd started.

She lay beneath me, not overtly adverse to being there, but not encouraging me, either. Giving me nothing to chase away the ghosts that flitted around me. Doing nothing to keep the shadows at bay. Saying nothing, just laying there quietly, uninvolved, letting me ram away at her. Was this just some kind of therapy session that she thought I needed?

And if it was, would that really be such a big surprise to me? Wasn't I using this as just that?

I was, but I'd expected…more. I wanted more. I needed more, just not from her.

I needed what I'd thrown away…

Vic's face filled my head. Vic, with all her fire and sass. Vic, who knew exactly what this was all about. I couldn't imagine her laying beneath me, so passive. In fact, what I could imagine was her on top of me, seeking her own release from the darkness we both shared.

I could imagine her taking me to somewhere so very far away from all this. Purging me as I purged her. Seeking each other with hands, mouths. Punishing each other for the things we'd done and hadn't done. Lifting each other beyond all that, with the purpose of finding reasons to go on, beyond the darkness. But then what? Where did we go from there?

Oh, Jesus Christ! What kind of man had I let myself become?

What should've been a grunt from me came out sounding more like a sob.

I couldn't have Vic, no matter how much I wanted her. Wouldn't take her like this, without feeling or thought, no matter how badly I needed to. It just couldn't be like that between us. Too much emotion, too much feeling about and between _us._

Moving her out of my immediate orbit had been my way to protect her and selfishly, to protect myself. She knew me, sometimes better than I knew myself and if I let her back in, would we get through this or just drown in all the could've beens, should've beens?

I felt too much for her and I needed her in ways I just wasn't comfortable with. Better for both of us if I held her at arms' length. Better for her if Eammon was the one to hold her instead of me…and I tried hard to convince myself that I was right about that, but I couldn't deny the stab of jealousy that pained my heart.

Push it away. Push her away. Make _this_ real and so,

I stopped my futile movements. I held my weight above this woman beneath me and at long last, opened my eyes.

Make it real…

…and the reality was, I was engaging in sex with someone I barely knew. Reality was, she wasn't looking at me any more than I'd been looking at her. Eyes closed tightly. Arms not around me, but held at her sides. Not a hint of bliss on her face let alone even slight enjoyment. She actually looked more pained than pleasured.

I got the fleeting impression that all this was distasteful to her…and I felt the same way.

"I…I can't do this…" I whispered.

Her eyes flew open. Was that relief I saw, somehow mixed up with surprise?

I pulled myself out, rolled on to my back beside her and armed the useless sweat from my brow, trying to get my breathing back under control. Closing my eyes again. Closing them tight in an attempt to see nothing at all. Keeping my arm over them to make sure they stayed shut!

That's when she came to some kind of life. Not beneath me, but beside me. That meant something and a distant alarm sounded somewhere in my head.

"Walt?…"

I felt her shift beside me. Most likely propping herself up on an elbow. I felt her hand on my chest.

"Walt…it's okay, really…"

Her reassurance sounded forced and false to me. Sounded more like relief, in fact.

Her hand slid up my chest. I felt her shift again, moving closer. Her lips were right against my ear.

"It happens sometimes…It doesn't mean anything," she whispered, trying to sound sympathetic and seductive at the same time. It didn't sound convincing to me.

But she had said one thing I could totally relate to – it meant nothing – and I wasn't thinking about my inability to finish what I'd started. I was thinking about my whole involvement with her. It meant nothing and yet, somehow, it meant so very much…

"We can make this work," she said. "We'll take it slow. I'll help you," and her hand slid down, over my belly, following that line of hair like a roadmap.

Before she could touch what I no longer wanted her to touch, I quickly rolled away and sat up on the side of the bed, grasping the edge of the mattress with both hands. She moved again, to sit up behind me. To press herself against me. To run her hands up my back, over my shoulders. She kissed the nape of my neck.

"Don't be embarrassed," she told me softly, "lay back down. Let me help you," and I supposed, aside from her words, her hands all over me, her lips trailing kisses along my shoulders were meant to be encouragement on her part, but all I could think was why was she trying to encourage me now when she should have been encouraging me before?

I was thinking that this whole thing with her had been my doing, despite her obvious lack of interest and when she did show some kind of interest, it all seemed…calculated somehow. I felt like I'd been played. Maybe it was nothing more than using her to find out that she might have just been using me. I knew what my motivation was, in some hazy kind of way, but what was hers?

She wasn't a part of this nightmare that Branch's death had unleashed. She hadn't even known me when I'd found Branch's body. Hadn't known me when I shot Barlow, wanting to kill him, not only for Martha, but for the son he so callously took from this world.

That sonofabitch had killed his only son! That cold-hearted bastard had shot Branch to cover up the truth and then thrown him away, like trash! Left him in the river for how many days before we found him. Left him out there alone, making it look like Branch had truly gone over the deep end and killed himself!

My wife! His son! Making me feel sorry for him!

Instead of trying to save his sorry ass after I'd shot him, I should've gotten down beside him and gutted him like a fish with my knife!

No. I'd wanted to, but I hadn't.

"No!"

I got to my feet. Grabbed my jeans and yanked them on.

Barlow killed Branch but I'd failed him first.

Left him to go off on his own. Branch hadn't been crazy. He'd been determined to get to the bottom of that whole mess with David Ridges. He hadn't sat around feeling sorry for himself. He'd dug and dug until he found out the truth about Martha…and through it all, I'd left him as alone as Barlow had when he'd thrown his body in the river, in to that cold, heartless river that wanted only to sweep him away as though he never mattered…

I'd failed him. I failed them all…

…and I didn't know how to fix it.

I turned to look at Donna. Sitting up in my bed. Deep in her own thoughts, watching me. I knew right then and there that I'd failed myself, too. I gazed upon her, feeling cold, empty and dark.

She didn't matter to me. She didn't belong here with me, like this. She didn't belong, but yet, here she was. The whys of it all ran through my head and over my tongue, but before I could ask her about them, the main door to the cabin flew open with a crash, causing me to spin towards the sound, instinctively reaching for my gun that wasn't there. I couldn't move fast enough to find it before all hell broke loose…

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:**

 **Vic's spidey senses (and other senses) start tingling. I just hope it's not too late...**

 **BLOOD MOON RISING - Ch. 4**

Arizona.

Walt and I together.

Sharing his beer in the bar. Opening up to him. Laughing at and with him when he found the intricacies of using a swipe card to unlock his room beyond his capabilities.

Seeing the frustration on his face. Taking the card from his hand and opening it for him. Saying goodnight to him, not the way we both did at the end of a work day. Saying it to each other, knowing we were both on our way to bed, to sleep, perchance, to dream…

Sitting on the edge of my motel bed, the adjoining door to Walt's room at my back. Sitting there, feeling the weight of my wedding ring on my finger just as I felt the undeniable pull of the man's presence on the other side of that door.

Glancing at it over my shoulder and wondering if he was thinking about me, too.

Temptation.

I hadn't given in to it, but I'd been thinking about it when my cell phone went off, startling me.

A breath of release had escaped me. Still couldn't say to this day whether or not it had been relief or frustration. Only knew it had been the call Walt and I had been waiting for and after getting dressed again, I'd knocked on that adjoining door with a purpose we could both relate to and live with. We'd both become a lot of messed up things since that night, but luckily, 'adulterers' wasn't one of them.

Walt had been right there on the other side. The door had opened almost before I was finished knocking on it and that surprised me. So did the smile on his face and the look of welcome that he gave me.

In that 'stand-still' moment, I wished I'd been knocking for other reasons. Perhaps just that one reason that Walt seemed to want, if what that anticipatory smile of his had seemed to imply at the time had been true and not just wishful thinking on my part.

Thankfully and regrettably, my knocking was the result of duty calling and I had quickly filled Walt in, grateful to have something known to distract me from the sight of him and his welcoming little grin…I honestly don't think I would've knocked on his door for that other reason, but where Walt was concerned, I'd been weak.

Still was.

And looking at this damn picture of us together wasn't helping! I threw it aside.

Weak.

I hated that word! Worse, I hated admitting that that's what I'd become. Weak and weepy and out of control.

No direction. No guidance. No self-control.

Calling Eammon, ending up in bed with him….Would I have done that if I'd been the strong, capable woman I'd always prided myself on being?

Sure, I had my moments, my out of control moments when I reacted without thought. That giving in to my emotions was as much a part of my genetic make-up as my eye and hair colour were, not to mention the fact the Italians were known for being a feisty bunch. Somehow, though, I'd always been able to hold back on the things I'd known deep inside were _very_ wrong for me, especially when those things involved others.

It was a fine line sometimes, but I didn't have the excuse of youth and inexperience to justify certain behaviours any more.

I liked Eammon, I did.

He was a good cop, a smart man. Easy on the eyes and he had a sense of humour, but had I honestly been attracted enough to him to warrant sleeping with him or I had I only been reacting to Walt's pushing me away yet again?

Without Sean and our marriage in the picture, had I switched my hopes for Walt and I to my hopes for having something with Eammon?

I just wasn't sure about any of that….but the fact that Walt was glaringly jealous of Eammon had not gone unnoticed by the man himself…or me. What remained was for me to figure out if I really wanted Eammon or if I was just using him.

And the answer to that lay somewhere in that conversation I'd had with Walt in the alley.

Practically boasting to him that I'd had sex with Eammon. Asking him about Donna and watching to see his reaction. Having him tell me that his life and what he did with it, whom he chose to do it with, was none of my business….

I should've left it at that. If I really cared about Eammon, I would have…

…but instead, I got up in Walt's face and told him that what he did with his life impacted mine and always would. He hadn't confirmed or denied that bold statement of mine. He'd just looked at me. Both of us had glared those metaphorical daggers at each other in that moment when the world seemed to tunnel down to just the two of us…

I hadn't meant to say it, but I did.

I hadn't meant it as a truth between us, but it was. He'd seen it and so had I.

What Walt did with his life would always impact mine…unless I changed things.

I'd thought Eammon was a way to do that, but here I was, still thinking about Walt.

Thinking about Walt and Donna and how I'd practically pushed her in to his arms. What else was I supposed to have done? I wasn't stupid and I sure wasn't blind; I'd seen that new shirt of his right away. Seen the way he'd changed in to it in the middle of the day, just before he'd gone to see her. I hadn't been able to keep the fact that I noticed to myself, either.

Jealousy? Anger? Betrayal?

I'd felt all those things when I'd seen that shirt of his, but had I thrown Dr. Donna at him for those same reasons?

I wasn't so sure about that.

I only knew then that it was never going to work out for Walt and me. That realization had actually come over me with a sense of calmness and quiet clarity. That realization had also made me sad, but it had somehow freed me from that irresistible hold he seemed to have on my heart, at the time, anyway.

Not for all time, though. That was painfully clear.

That telling him that his life would always impact mine…I think I meant it in the way that we'd been through so much together. Too much, probably.

Branch's death, the hows and whys of it, the far-reaching impact of it on all of us, well, that was something that seemed to shroud us all in darkness and I, for one, just didn't want to linger there anymore.

I'd cried. I'd spoken my thoughts out loud, even if they were thoughts of feeling responsible for his death merely by my toxic presence. That didn't mean I was over it. I was no where near over it, might never be, but I'd voiced my grief and my underlying thoughts about myself.

Walt, on the other hand, voiced nothing.

Sure, his obsession with Branch's death led him to uncover the horrible, awful mind-boggling truth and that Barlow had actually killed his own damn son still made me sick to my stomach, but as a cop, shit like this wasn't new to me. The depravity of some people had long ago ceased to amaze me although it could still get to me….if I let it.

As far as Branch was concerned, I couldn't quite keep my emotions conveniently out of the whole thing. I'd known him. Worked with him. Argued with him. The odd and rare time, I'd even laughed with him.

And on the other side of all that, I'd hated him. Been compelled to tell Walt about my misgivings concerning his mental state after his encounter with David Ridges. Branch had nearly killed me for doing that when he'd found out.

Still, in some way, I dearly missed his presence. I even missed his damn swagger. No death was ever easy, but this death? This death, _his_ death impacted me just as much as Walt's life did, damn it!

…and Walt was moving on.

Moving away. He was interested in the doctor and I'd pushed her right at him! I'd like to think I'd done that as a way of telling him to move on. I'd like to think I'd done it, hoping that she could help him. I'd like to think I'd done it because I couldn't stand to see him being so cold, so distant, especially towards me, but I knew better.

Didn't quite know the exact reason why, but I knew enough to know that pushing her towards him was somehow allowing me to pull myself away…

So damn confusing! So damn unsure of myself and my motivations! Did I want Walt to be happy? Yes! Did I want him to get there with anyone else but me? I'd like to think so. He was, once upon a time, my best friend. The keeper of my secrets. Could I walk away from him and let him explore this relationship? Did I have a choice?

He had definitely slammed the door to his life shut in my face, or tried to.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to take a step back. All this emotional going around and around was getting me nowhere. If anything, it was only keeping me a prisoner in the dark.

Instead, I thought about this Dr. Donna Sue Monahan. Tried to stay impartial, but right from the start, she'd hated me. Why? I didn't know her at all, had never crossed paths with her before. There was no way she could've seen me as a threat between her and Walt. There had been no 'her and Walt' when we'd first met and definitely no 'me and Walt'. He'd seen to that all on his own!

And yet, she hated me, the way Lizzie had. I understood Lizzie's attitude about me and at least she'd had the somewhat questionable grace to at least pretend to like me, for a while.

Donna-Sue, on the other hand, (and what a truly sappy name that was!) treated me like shit without provocation, real or imagined! Why?

I sat up. Got off the bed. Paced a time or two. Felt a tingle of intuition, even a touch of apprehension while I pondered on the good doctor.

Just what the hell did she know about me to make her react the way she had towards me…and better still, what did I know about her? What did Walt know about her?

She was an unknown in our world. A newcomer to Sheridan, outside our jurisdiction. I'd never heard of her and I'm sure Walt hadn't either, until that incident with the soldiers and PTSD had come along and the stolen drugs, the suspicion of the doctor herself being involved in it, only to have Walt do a one-eighty on that particular line of investigation…

I was moving from jilted female to curious cop, barely aware of doing so. The only clue that this was happening was the clarity I found in my thoughts and my emotions. Maybe going in to work was just what I needed, especially with a mission in mind.

I had to find out just who Dr. Monahan was and why she had to make it more than clear that she was no fan of mine.

I grabbed the truck keys, left Cady's house and jumped in my vehicle. A quick check by radio to see if Walt was in the office. I somehow didn't want to find him there. Ruby told me he wasn't. He was out looking for Gab.

Her tone of voice made it plain that she wasn't about to tell me anything more concerning Walt. These days, she wasn't a fan of mine, either, but that was alright. She, at least, was family…and our family was falling apart. I wasn't blameless where that was concerned.

All that mattered to me was that Walt was out. I wouldn't think about him… or Gab, except to hope that Gab wouldn't be found. Walt wanted to protect her, of that I was sure, but if he never found her she'd never have to be charged with killing that scumbag that had raped her, along with his asshole buddies. There was no justice for her if that happened…and if Walt found her, that's exactly what would happen!

I couldn't think about her, either. What had happened to her hit too close to home for me and I was done with dealing with pain, for a time, at least.

"Thank you, Dr. Drab, for giving me something else to think about," I muttered sarcastically as I headed to the station.

Something was very off where she was concerned. The certainty of it was bugging me like an itch I couldn't scratch. I only wished the itch had started sooner. One way or another, I was going to find a way to scratch it!

I was the one who'd thrown her in to Walt's arms. Not that he wouldn't have taken her there himself, based on the direction he'd been headed in with her, but still…

"Calm down," I warned myself.

Sometimes an itch was just an itch and nothing more.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note : **

**My timeline regarding events could very well be off here as compared to what actually happened in S4 - and as much as I know it's important to do research, I'm just not up to watching the whole thing again. Not yet, anyway. For now, this will have to do so bear with me.**

 **BLOOD MOON RISING - Ch.5**

The office was quiet. Too quiet.

I sat at my desk, working on my notes regarding little Miss Dr. D. Ferg was trying hard not to make it obvious that he was snooping across his desk to mine and it was distracting, to say the least. It didn't help that I kept looking up, half-expecting Branch to be there instead. Ferg had the potential to be a good cop, but he was far from being the investigator Branch had been.

Oh, fuck! I could sure use Branch's help about now – but Branch was gone. Long gone.

I felt silly tears sting my eyes.

Ruby's icy demeanor wasn't helping any, either. She'd barely managed a 'good morning' to me. She was still pissed at me for wanting to know who was leaving all those messages for Walt when it had turned out to be Donna. Funny that Walt had ignored her so well back then.

Yeah, we were all seriously fucked up!

I stood, the folder I'd started on the mysterious Dr. Monahan closed and held tightly in my hand.

"What you working on, Vic?" Ferg finally asked. I glared at him.

"Nothing very exciting, Ferg," I told him coolly. "Just finishing up some reports."

"I could help," he offered, in spite of my icy tone.

Yeah, he was bored.

I wondered why Walt hadn't taken him along on the hunt for Gab. I guess it made sense that he hadn't. We were seriously short-staffed and yet again, I missed Branch. When the hell was Walt ever going to replace him?

"That's okay," I said, moving away from my desk. "I just need some files from Walt's office," and I made sure to direct that last bit towards Ruby.

She hardly seemed interested. I took that to mean she'd removed any incriminating evidence from Walt's office and his trash can, if there was any, before I came in.

"Whatever, Ruby," I muttered as I entered Walt's office, closed the door behind me and sat in his chair, at his desk.

Yeah, so maybe the last time I'd sat here I'd seriously messed up. He'd left me in charge without much warning and not much in the way of staff. It wasn't all on me and maybe someday I'd be able to forgive Ruby for making me feel like it had been.

Today wasn't quite that day, though.

None of us really seemed to trust each other the way we once had and maybe that would change or it wouldn't. I didn't have much interest at the moment in figuring that one out. I had bigger things to think about.

Without my laptop, which I'd left closed on my own desk, I had to rely on my cell phone to do my digging. I typed in 'Donna Sue Monahan' and scrolled through the hits that popped up. A lot of women with the same name, but no information on the one I was looking for.

I hit 'images', but came up empty-handed, again. Okay, so not everyone had an internet presence, but surely there would have to be something about a practising psychiatrist somewhere on the web! I looked and looked, but found nothing.

I typed in Sheridan Wy beside her name and still got nada. I found that strange. Strange enough to start those good old spider sense tingling. I opened the top drawer of Walt's desk, figuring he had to have her card around here somewhere.

I found it and I also found something that made this whole investigation of mine fly out of my head. A box of Zoloft.

Oh, dear God, please tell me he wasn't self-medicating!

The box appeared secure, but just to make sure, I opened it. All the pills were there, the little push-seals around each one still intact.

Okay. Okay….maybe these were just evidence we'd found inside that church piano. Probably…but Walt was pretty meticulous about keeping evidence where it belonged and not just lying around in his desk. Correction, that was the Walt that had been, not necessarily the Walt that was now….but who was I to judge? Was I the same old Vic? Not by a long-shot…

Whatever his reason for keeping the pills in his drawer, at least he hadn't taken any of them, not from this pack, anyway. I had to be satisfied with that, for now.

I put them away. I turned my attention to the good doctor's business card instead. I dialed the office number and asked if the doctor was in.

"Not at this time," was the flustered feminine reply.

"Then when will she be in?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. She asked me to clear her schedule for the rest of the day. If this is urgent, I can refer you to another clinic here in town, although getting to see a doctor will be up to you."

"No, that's okay. I'll try again tomorrow."

I hung up. I thought about going out to Walt's place. She was probably there, but I honestly couldn't stomach the thought of dropping by to see that! At least Walt wasn't there with her, but still….

I sat back in Walt's big old chair, tilting it enough that I had to hook the toe of my boot under the edge of the desk to find some kind of balance.

"Why the hell is it so hard to find out anything about you, Donna-Sue?" I wondered softly.

Even if I'd had my laptop, this office didn't have the connections I needed to find the unfindable, at least not as fast as I'd like to get on with it. It was times like this that I really missed being a cop in Philly. Modern technology and easy access to it had its advantages.

Well, just because I wasn't there anymore didn't mean I couldn't get a little Philly help. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone. Found what I was looking for and hit 'dial'.

No way in hell was I going to use Walt's phone to make this call! I shouldn't even have used it to call the doc's office in Sheridan, but I knew he had, on more than one occasion, so hopefully no one would notice one more call from this office.

One ring and then an automated voice telling me 'this number is no longer in service'. What the fuck? Obviously, someone had changed their cell phone number!

I searched my memory for an alternate number. Once, in what seemed like a very long time ago, I'd known the number off by heart. Now, I couldn't bring it to mind at all. Shit!

Back to Google. Back to my cell phone.

"Philadelphia PD, ninth precinct. Officer Morrison speaking. How may I help you?"

"Ya, hey. I'm trying to get ahold of Detective Michael Moretti. He's my brother and I need to talk to him."

"I'm afraid Detective Moretti isn't available at the moment. You wanna leave a message for him?"

"Nah, that's okay. I'll try again later."

Damnit!

Mom would have his number, but we weren't exactly speaking to each other, so no point calling the house. My other brothers, yeah, they could probably give me Michael's number, but it had been years since I'd talked to any of them and now wasn't the time to be calling out of the blue. Michael and I at least stayed in touch, even if we only called each other on holidays and birthdays.

That left my dad. He was probably at home, being retired now, and I did have his cell phone number. He wouldn't change it. He was a creature of habit. I looked him up and hit 'dial' again.

Two rings. That's all it took.

"Victoria! Where are you? At the airport? You want me to come pick you up? I'm just out in the garden. Give me five minutes, I'll change and get on my way!"

"Dad, slow down! I'm not at the airport. I'm still in Wyoming!"

" _Porca_ _vacca_ , Victoria! Why the hell are you still there? Why don't you just come home where you belong? You're not married to that _culo_ anymore, _grazie a Dio,_ so just came back here! I miss you, _piccolo_!"

The older he got, the more my dad reverted to his native language.

"Daddy, I miss you, too, but this is my home now, at least, _for_ now."

"You break my heart when you say that, Victoria. Still my little 'Terror' to be so cruel to your _papa._ So, why are you calling me?"

He was teasing me now and that was a good sign. He'd made me feel guilty, insulted Sean and now it was time to move on.

"I need to get ahold of Michael," I said. "I tried the precinct but he's not there and he must've changed his cell phone number."

" _Si_ , _si_ …yes, he did! Some girl was causing him grief. 'Stalking' him, so he says! _Mia_ _Dio_! – that boy! Too handsome for his own good!" and my dad chuckled. "Why can't he just find a good girl and settle down?"

"Maybe one day, Daddy," I told him with a smile.

I couldn't see Michael ever settling down though. He was pretty well the definition of a 'player'. My baby brother was the kind of guy you _didn't_ want to bring home to 'mama', but I loved him. Probably even admired him for always being true to who he really was. That was something my dad didn't need to hear, not from me, anyway!

"Ahhh, that day will never come, _Piccola_! So, why do you want to get in touch with him? What can he do for you that I can't?"

While I was talking to my dad, I'd sat back upright again and opened one of the lower drawers in the desk. Walt's file on Donna's van was right there. I took it out, opened it up.

"I'm investigating an arson out here," I told him, glad to have something better to say than 'I want Michael to do some snooping for me'.

"No concrete suspects, but I'm trying to find information on a person of interest."

"Don't you have internet in cowboy country?" my dad asked sarcastically. Yeah, wonder where I got it from!

"Sure we do, but all the cows have to be facing the same way to get a good signal," I snarked.

"Nice to hear that being out West hasn't changed you that much," he replied with a laugh.

"Still Philly to the core," I assured him. Time to get serious.

"Look, Dad, I need to get in touch with Michael. I can go through the proper channels here, but that takes time and I don't have time!" and my spidey senses were really tingling, looking at the picture of Donna's burnt van. That thing had been more than torched; it had been incinerated!

Reading Walt's notes, I found that there were no leads so far, no suspects. The incident had happened in Sheridan and the lack of progress? Well, it didn't surprise me. We weren't privy to information outside our jurisdiction, but looking at that picture, thinking about Dr. Donna-Sue…it made me cold inside. If I couldn't find out anything about her, hopefully Michael could! Something was wrong here…and Donna was out there, probably at Walt's cabin…and I'd basically shoved her in that direction!

"Daddy, look, I have to go, but can you please text me Michael's number?"

The sudden sense of urgency made my heart pound.

" _Si_. _Si_! I can do that…but, Victoria….I miss you. Come home, even if it's only for a visit. This thing between you and your mama, it's not worth staying away for…"

"I'm divorced, Papa! You know how mom feels about that! Things were never good between us anyway, but this?" I felt anger well up inside me.

"I don't care about that! _Merda_! I'll keep her in line, I swear!" Obviously, my dad was angry, too." Just – just come see me, Victoria…" he'd turned to pleading. "I miss you and…I love you…" he finished up quietly.

I had to fight back tears, take a moment before I could answer him.

Maybe going home wasn't such a bad idea after all. I'd never go back to the actual house I was raised in. Could never live with my mother again, but I could stay with my aunt, Maria. We got along well. She had a wicked sense of humour and knew swear words I hadn't even heard of!

Hell, I was living out of a suitcase at Cady's place anyway. Nothing left to pack. Nothing left to keep me here in Wyoming…Nothing left to look forward to. Walt's life couldn't impact mine if I went back to Philly, right? If I never saw him again, why would I care what he did? Wasn't convincing myself about that, but maybe, with time and distance, I could stop caring... so damn much.

Staying here…well, that was just fighting things that had changed when I hadn't wanted them to. Going back home, I could stop by Jackie's place, get her to dye my hair back to its natural colour, connect with old friends and family. I didn't think I'd be welcomed at the fifth precinct, but I could get my dad or Michael to pull some strings and maybe land an undercover gig with the ninth, possibly even work with my brother in Narcotics or go back to Homicide.

Staying here, the way things were now, I'd never be more than I was right now – a fucked up mess. But going back to Philly? Well, maybe there was hope that I could become something better. Just had to stay out of my mom's orbit, but I could do that. I was seriously going to think about this, but first –

"Daddy, just let me finish up this case. I promise, when I'm done, I'll come see you," I vowed, wiping my eyes.

"Spoken like a true cop, _bambina_! I understand and I won't push. I'll take your word and hold you to it…and I'll also take you to Vito's for that pizza you love so much!" and he was laughing now, sounding so full of hope and joy.

It was good to hear someone sounding so happy at the prospect of seeing me; it was exactly what I needed. A small step on my road to recovery. A small step to finding myself again.

"Make it two pizzas and I'll be on the next plane home!" and we both laughed.

"I'll send you Michael's number right away and warn Vito that you're coming back! Victoria, you just made your papa's heart sing! Finish your case, pack your bags and I'll warn the neighbours, too!"

"Oh, Papa!" I laughed, picturing him doing just that and then I sobered.

"Just don't tell Mom yet, okay? This is between me and you, for now."

"I can do that…for now! Go, get on with things! _A presto, amore mio_!"

"More like _arrivederci, Papa_ …just in case!" I laughed.

"I'll take it, Victoria! Just get here when you can," and with that, he hung up.

Within seconds, his text containing Michael's number appeared. All thoughts of Philly and going home were put aside.

How was I supposed to get Michael to snoop around about Dr. Donna without a picture of her for him to use? It wasn't impossible, but with the lack of anything about her on the internet, it wasn't going to be easy.

I sat back and reviewed what I did know about her. Not much, for sure….but the circumstances of her showing up in our lives, the things going on at that same time…maybe there was a connection there somewhere.

It all started with Branch. Branch led to Barlow. Barlow was dead, too, but somehow, he was suing Walt from beyond the grave. Branch's mother, draped all in black, had shown up at his memorial. No one, not even Walt, knew her. Cady had seen her, but not up close. Who was she and was it just coincidence that not long after, we'd made the acquaintance of Dr. Donna? A totally unrelated case, but still….

I dialled Michael's number.

"Hey, big sister! You found me! I was gonna send you my new number, I swear – "

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice, Michael. Look, I need a favour."

"Sure, anything!"

"I need you to do some snooping around for me. Looking for some background info on a Dr. Donna-Sue Monahan, currently based out of Sheridan, Wyoming."

"Okay. Got a pic of the lady?"

"That's the thing. I don't and I can't find one and I'm not really in a position to go up to her and take one. I can give you a general description though. She's about five-foot ten, on the skinny side. Shoulder length blonde hair and probably somewhere in her late forties, early fifties."

"Okay," Michael muttered, obviously taking down what I'd just told him. "So, that narrows it down to about forty-eight percent of the female population, Vic. Easy-peasy," he added sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know, shithead! Look, she's a psychiatrist or psychologist, some kind of head-shrinker."

"Okay, we're down to thirty-two percent…Anything even remotely useful you can give me about this chick?"

I slammed my hand down on Walt's desk in frustration.

"All I know is that she suddenly showed up here, got herself on my radar and had her van torched!"

"And you cowboys can't figure this out?"

"We could, in time…but I don't have time, Michael! She's bad news, I feel it."

"Is this personal, Vic? Is she hassling you?"

"No, but I might just have thrown someone I know in to her hands…"

"Okay, well…this isn't much to go on…"

"Try cross-referencing her with either Barlow or Branch Connally. Hell, cross-reference her with both of them! I'm not sure if there's a connection there, but it's the best I have right now, Michael."

"I'll do what I can, Vic."

"Today, Michael! I need something _today_!"

"I kinda figured that. I'll get on it and get back to you, asap. Oh, and by the way, Dad told me you're coming back home. Had enough of arresting cows for D and D?" he laughed.

Well, I'd told my dad not to tell my mom. I hadn't mentioned anything about not telling anyone else. My own damn fault.

"Hey, I can take down a cow in three seconds flat, which means I can take you down before you can even say 'bullshit'….so yeah, I'm coming back and I've got some new tricks, just for you!"

"I can't wait, big sister! Look, I gotta go. I'll get on this and let you know what I find out."

"Thanks, Michael."

Just as I hung up, the door opened and Ruby stood there, glaring at me. I slid the file concerning Donna's van back in the drawer, closed it and got to my feet, gathering up my own file.

"Just leavin'," I informed her with a dazzling smile, and I was.

I breezed past her to grab my jacket from the back of my chair. Ferg was looking at me expectantly, but for a moment, I only saw Branch sitting there. Once again, I missed his presence and his investigative skills. I thought about asking Ferg to help me, but no….I didn't think he'd be above interpreting my actions as jealousy. Branch would have probably accused me of the same thing, but he would've heard me out, if only out of curiosity.

Branch had also had the money and the connections here in Durant to grease a few wheels, loosen a few tongues and while I didn't have his impressive bank account, I did have a few connections of my own. Seedy connections, to be sure, but still, better than none at all. I had my own ways of intimidating certain people, especially certain people who moved outside the range of the law. Growing up in Philly hadn't been for nothing…

"You okay, Vic?" Ferg's question dispelled the ghost of Branch.

"Yeah…Look, I'm going out. Gonna do a little patrolling, remind the bad guys that we're still here. Any word from Walt yet?"

"No," Ruby answered behind me. "If he needs you, he'll call." Such emphasis on the word 'if'! Yeah, Philly was looking better all the time!

"Oh, don't worry, Ruby. I'm the last person Walt 'needs'. I got that memo!" and with that, I grabbed my keys and departed the office. Jumped in my truck and decided to take a little trip up to Sheridan. I also made a call while watching Durant slip behind me in my rear-view mirror…

xxxxxxxxxxxx


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note \- Finally and at long last! Thanks for hanging in there, folks:). Oh, please, writing gods, let this be the start of a good long run of getting words down on paper! I really, really want to finish all my stories before S6 comes out! LOL  
**

 **Chapter 6 - Blood Moon Rising**

"Hey, Homer," and I couldn't say his name without almost snickering. Kept picturing him yellow, "I brought you a coffee. Even threw in a danish and would I do that if I was here to arrest you?"

I watched the bedraggled man in front of me flick his eyes from side to side, up and down and round and round. While his body might not be yellow, the whites of his eyes sure were, probably due to the bad shape his liver was in. As an added bonus,the first two fingers of his right hand were stained damn near orange from his cigarette habit, but each to their own, right?

Skittish as a colt before a thunderstorm, he finally managed to keep his eyes still enough to take in the sight of the paper bag I held up in one hand and the take-out coffee cup I offered him with the other.

He snatched at both of them. Good thing I hadn't expected any thanks because none were forthcoming.

Homer's nowhere near charming trailer was on my way out of town and after calling him to make sure he was around, I came bearing gifts and to have a little talk with him.

He was probably around my age, but he looked a good hard twenty years older. A lifetime of booze, cigarettes and the occasional foray in to the wonderful world of meth had definitely taken its toll on him.

His long hair, dark and unkempt, was shot through with gray and he obviously didn't have time for much eating or showering. He looked like a scarecrow, one that had been left out in the field damn near forever.

In the grand scheme of criminal activity, Homer was small-time. A few B&E's, possession of stolen property and one or two misdemeanor drug charges, along with a string of alcohol-related offences, most of which amounted to 'drunk and disorderly'. It was just his lifestyle, but when it came to information about criminal activity, Homer was like a rat, sniffing out the dark going-ons far below the sunny surface of Durant.

He definitely hung around with the wrong kind of crowd but what could be seen as a regrettable life choice for him turned out to be a bonus for me, especially now. If anyone knew who might have torched Donna's van, even up there in Sheridan, it was Homer. And if he didn't know, he could turn me on to someone who would. My faith in him wasn't disappointed when I brought up the subject.

"I heard talk about some guy that scored a major payday up there not too long ago," he managed to get out, along with some interesting bits of his danish while he spoke and ate at the same time.

"You got a name?" I asked.

"Nah….but I know someone who might…" and he left that sentence just kind of hanging there, for dramatic effect, no doubt. I rolled my eyes. Pulled out my wallet and waggled a twenty in front of his face; it was my lunch money. Oh, well, if Homer gave me something that panned out, I'd happily go hungry.

He grabbed for it but I pulled it back.

"Uh-uh," I said. "You give me the name, I give you the money. Gotta do this by the book, Homie. Can't be sayin' I didn't follow proper procedure."

"Anyone ever tell ya you're a real bitch?"

"Every day, pal, every day! Now, cough up something besides a lung and let's get on with this."

"Alright. My buddy up t' Sheridan told me the story. His name's Dan. You'll find him at the shelter there, just of Main and fifth. Wears a beat up John Deere cap all the time and he's about your size, only easier on the eyes!" and he actually laughed at that, displaying his yellow, turning to brown, teeth. The few he had left, that is.

"Compared to you, I'm a raving beauty."

I handed him the twenty. He made it disappear like magic.

"Don't be making me regret giving you that," I warned him. "If I have to arrest you later for misbehaving, I'm gonna be thoroughly pissed….and you really wouldn't like me that way, Homie!"

I left him standing on the leaning porch of his ramshackled domicile and got back in my truck. Checked my cell phone, hoping I hadn't missed that call from Michael. Michael hadn't called, not yet. Ferg had, but he could wait. He hadn't left a message, so I assumed it wasn't important.

"C'mon, little brother," I urged him quietly as I started the truck, "get your ass in gear!"

I pulled away from Homer's world, feeling like I needed a shower, and resumed the trip to Sheridan.

Finding Dan proved to be easier than I expected.

He was right there in the shelter, sitting in the dining hall. I'd parked a few blocks over, ditching my jacket and my uniform shirt. I had an old bulky sweater in the truck, so I put that on. It was long on me. I tucked my gun snuggly in to the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back, slid my cell phone in to one of the back pockets and my badge in to the other. Undid my ponytail and mussed up my hair. As undercover as I was going to get.

At least, sitting here with Dan, I didn't stick out like a sore thumb. I filled him in on my acquaintance with Homer and our conversation. He sat back, looked me over and then leaned forward again.

"You're a cop, aren't you?" he asked.

Damnit!

"Yeah, I am, but I'm only here looking for answers. This guy I'm looking for, he's Sheridan's problem, not mine. I just need to talk to him."

"I don't know the guy personally," Dan informed me quietly, "so I don't really care what you want him for. He was in here a few nights ago, mouthing off about how he'd come up with some money. He was offering drinks to anyone that would go to the bars with him."

My first impression of Dan had surprised me. He wasn't anything like the way I'd pictured him. He was young, clean-cut, articulate and polite.

"How do you know Homer?" I asked him now. He certainly didn't look like someone I could picture Homer being chums with.

"I was up in Durant a while ago," he began. "I met him in one of the bars there. Talked me in to buying him a drink or two and we got to talkin'. I mean, he looks like shit, but he's an interesting guy."

"You do know he's not exactly one of Durant's finest, right?"

Dan laughed.

"Ma'am, I've been around this country of ours and I've met the finest and the not so fine. I don't judge. I just take people the way they present themselves to me. Homer was nice. Tried to get me some leads on a job or two, but they didn't pan out."

"You're a bit of a drifter then," I said. Okay, I judged!

"I'm just an out-of-work carpenter looking for a job. I consider myself 'temporarily displaced' and as you can see," he swept his hand around the room, "I'm not alone."

"You're certainly not that," I agreed. I felt eyes on my back and I was getting uncomfortable.

"So, what can you tell me about this guy with all the cash? Do you know where he might be?"

He was looking around the room. It seemed as though he sensed my discomfort. He'd spotted me for what I was; others would, too.

"Why don't you and me go for a little walk?" he suggested. I peered at him. Did I trust him? Well, I didn't not trust him, there were no alarms going off in my head, so I agreed.

Once outside, I felt more at ease. We walked and we talked and we hunted. Twenty minutes later, Dan grabbed my arm. Stopped me in my tracks. We were down by the railyards. A group of men stood around one of the building, smoking and shooting the shit.

"See the guy in the black knit cap?" Dan asked softly, leaning close to me. I did.

"That's him. That's the guy."

"You sure?"

"Positive! That coat he's wearing? It's mine."

"How did he get your coat?"

"He bought it off me that night." He shrugged. "I needed the money more than I needed the coat."

Okay, I was pretty sure this guy wasn't a threat to me, but something about him was bothering me. I hadn't expected it to be easy to find this other guy – hell, I really hadn't expected to find him at all, truth be told, but here I was and there he was…and all thanks to this guy beside me. I looked him up and down.

"I know you told me you were a carpenter, but just what were you before that?" I asked, hands on my hips, chin tilted up.

He grinned.

"I used to be a cop…"

Aha!

"'Used' to be?" I encouraged him.

"Definitely 'used' to be!"

"I knew there was something about you…..Look, stay here. Wait for me."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied sharply, that easy grin still on his face.

Now that that little mystery was solved, sort of, I had to get close to Mr. Big Time Spender.

"I'm temporarily relieving you of your hat," I told Dan, snagging his cap off his head. I put it on my own after messing up my hair a bit more. I looked around me, hunkered down. Grabbed a handful of cinder dirt and rubbed it on my hands, my clothes and my face. Put some of it through my hair, too. I needed something else. I needed –

"Something like this?" Dan asked, holding out a dirty whiskey bottle to me. There was still about an inch or so of, let's say, 'liquid' in it.

"Something just like this," I laughed, taking the bottle from him. I took a moment to get myself 'in the mood'. Okay. Good. Ready to go.

"Wish me luck", I told him. "I'll be back with your hat and maybe even your coat," and I began to weave my way towards my suspect.

"I could help," Dan offered.

"No thanks. I can do this on my own. Just wander off over there somewhere and wait for me. I need to talk to you."

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled and drifted away.

As I neared the group of men, they all turned to look at me. Five of them. Suspicion turned to smiles and yeah, leers as they took me for what I appeared to be; a tipsy woman. I smiled back.

"Hey, boys," I called out, sounding happy to have found them. Happy and slurry. "Y'all havin' a party without me?"

"Ain't much of a party without some entertainment," one of them said.

I reeled and wobbled, zeroing in on my guy. Got close enough and actually bumped against him. Before he could get his hands on me, I twirled out of his grasp.

"Who's askin'?" a big dude grunted and he looked mean. Looked to be the brains behind this bunch, but he was hardly Mensa-worthy! Just the brightest bulb in this pack.

"I am…" I slurred, leaning close to him. God, dodging these guys' hands made appearing drunk easier than I thought it would be. Didn't hurt that I'd had my share of drunken moments, either.

"You a cop?" he asked point-blank.

I practically stood nose to chest with him. His buddies had backed off for a moment, but I had my suspect in the corner of my eye even as I raised my head to look at this big oaf.

"A cop? Me?" I roared laughter. "I'll tell ya, I'm an expert on the inside of a jail cell, but that don't make me no cop! You a cop?" I asked, poking him in the chest.

I didn't wait for an answer. I bobbed and weaved my way around. I held my whiskey bottle up and then let it slip from my hand, all accidental-like. It shattered on the ground. I leaned forward, inspecting it with that rapt, forlorn concentration that only a drunk would.

"Well, goddamnit….ain't that just a shame…"

I straighten up, wobbling on my heels.

"Any of you boys got a bottle you wanna share with me?" I asked, scanning them all. I was praying to God that the answer would be no and I was hoping like hell that Spender still had some money on him and that the rest of them didn't.

"We ain't got nothin' 'til the welfare cheques come in," the red-head of the bunch spoke up. "But you just stick around. Won't be long now…" and he laughed. They all laughed and leered and tried to grab me again.

"I ain't got time to wait," I told them. "I need a drink or a man with some money. You boys….you ain't what I'm lookin' for…" and off I stumbled. I was beginning to rethink my plan when I heard footsteps in the gravel behind me. I stopped. Turned and sure enough, MrBigTimeSpender was catching up to me.

"Hey, darlin'…look, I didn't wanna say nothin' around those other guys, but I got money. Got me a sweet paycheck not that long ago and I could buy you that bottle and you could…y'know, show me how much you 'preciate it…"

I stood there, swaying , pretending to be having a hard time comprehending what he was saying…and then, I smiled. I put my arm through his and leaned against him.

"Outta all of them, I liked you the best anyhow," I purred. I felt him puff up with pride. Silly men!

"I could show you some a that 'preciation before you buy me that bottle and then maybe even after."

He reached in to his coat and pulled out a flask, grinning.

"I got a bit left in here, for starters," he offered and I snatched at the flask, caught it, opened it and took a big drink.

Luckily, it wasn't moonshine. It was whiskey and while it burned like hell going down, I could handle it. God, I had to remember to pick up some Listerine when all this was done. I couldn't imagine the cooties I might be catching from this guy.

I handed him back his flask and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater. He took a drink himself.

"Me and you, we need a little privacy," I said, making sure his arm was around my shoulders and not my waist.

"There's a boxcar just on the other side of the tracks," he indicated.

Yeah, that would do. I glanced behind me to check on his pals and their line of sight. They'd gone back to shootin' the shit and really didn't seem all that interested in me or my guy at the moment and that was better.

Walking towards that boxcar really did become more fluid. I didn't have to act so much. That damn whiskey had gotten to me, probably because I hadn't had anything to eat yet. It was okay though; I knew what I was doing.

He hoisted himself up in to the car and then reached down for my hand. He pulled me up and inside and was on me faster than I could spit. I pushed him away, pulled my gun out and trained it on him. His eyes grew wide with shock and he raised his hands. He knew the drill.

"Don't you know it's not nice to take advantage of a lady" I asked him, "no matter what her condition?"

"I didn't mean it! Honest! I thought we were just gonna kiss and stuff!" and he wasn't quite getting it, but then, he did.

He noticed my stance, feet apart, arms extended, holding that gun on him without one single wibble, wobble or weave. It was gloomy in the car so I took a moment to turn Dan's cap around on my head, getting the bill out of my way. If I had to shoot him, I wasn't planning on missing. I was thinking about Gab, thinking about what thinking about Gab made me think about…and I had to stop that!

This guy was just an idiot and I wasn't a young girl without protection.

"Awww, shit, you are a cop, ain'tcha?"

"So I lied. Sue me," I told him, "but lucky for you, I'm feeling magnanimous today. I'm not here to arrest you. I'm here to find out all about that big payday you've been blabbing about, so start telling me your story, dickhead!"

"I don't have to tell you nothin', bitch!" As usual, the typical display of bravado.

"I said I wouldn't arrest you, but I didn't say anything about not shooting you! Your call, pal. I'm not really looking to score a kill today, but," and I shrugged, letting him know I could go with it if I had to.

"This is – what's that word? Entrapment!"

"You say 'entrapment', I say 'the pursuit of knowledge'. I think my word is better than yours, don't you?" He actually thought about that for a moment; I was slightly impressed.

"What's in it for me?" he wanted to know. He'd seen the light.

"Not much, I guess. Your continued existence? We could start with that."

He seemed to think about it then plunked his ass down on an up-turned crate. I kept my gun on him.

"Look, pal…I honestly don't give a shit about the legalities of this situation. All I want to know is, are you the guy that torched that van up in Durant and if you are, who paid you to do it?"

"I don't know nothin about no van, I swear!"

"I'm not buyin' it. Who paid you to do it?"

He glared at me. I moved a little closer, my gun still trained on him. I really didn't want to shoot; the noise might bring his friends running, but then again, maybe it wouldn't. I couldn't take that risk, though. Things between the Sheriff's Departments in Durant and Wyoming were just a little too shaky for me to be here causing trouble. Bad enough Walt was 'banned' from this county. I assumed I wasn't included in that, but if this dick made me fire, I had the feeling I'd be spending some time in this particular county jail and 'time' was running out. I couldn't shake that feeling…

"Okay. Alright. Just gimme a minute," dickhead sputtered. "My memory…it ain't so good these days…"

I relaxed, a little. He was ready to talk, he'd give me a name and we'd part ways without causing a disturbance. He'd go his way, I'd go mine and no one would ever know I'd been here…except Dan, but I was pretty sure I could convince him to keep his mouth shut.

Dickhead put his head in his hands, all hunkered over, looking like he was trying to pull the memories from his mind. He rocked back and forth, ever so slightly, and I waited, fighting the urge to tap my foot.

"C'mon, buddy," I coaxed him, not bothering to hide my impatience, "Just one name…"

"I don't know….it's there, on the tip of my tongue, y'know? Started with…an arr? An em?"

"Man? Woman? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short?" I barked out. This guy was driving me nuts!

"It was a guy…shorter fella…one of them gingers…." And he petered out again.

"Don't stop now, buddy," I encouraged him. "I mean, my finger's getting itchy and all. Wants to really pull this trigger, y'know?"

"Okay! Okay! I remember!" and he jumped to his feet, a big-ass smile on his face. "The guy's name was…GERONIMO!"

He yelled it, sprang at me, knocking me off balance. I wouldn't have gone down before, but all my weight went to that damn ankle I'd twisted and it buckled. I went down. Not all the way, but enough that I had to put out a hand to keep from toppling over. I couldn't shoot.

It all happened so fast. My ankle was killing me but I tried to ignore it and get myself back on my feet. While I was doing that, Dickhead jumped right over me, this time, clipping me in the shoulder. Out of the boxcar he flew, yelling Geronimo, and out I fell, backwards, landing first on my ass and thus my cell phone, and then on my back, cursing like a sailor or a trucker, whichever really is worse.

"You fucking sonofabitch!" I yelled once I got my wind back. It really is a horrible feeling, lying helpless on your back, trying to suck in air that won't suck in. When I stopped gaping like a fish out of water, I rolled over and jumped to my feet. To hell with the ankle - that little creep was getting away and I couldn't let him!

I took off after him as best as I could. I saw him disappear around the end of the boxcar and I followed. When I caught him, I was going to shoot him – in the ankle to begin with and ask him how he liked it before I considered shooting him elsewhere.

I was so pissed at myself! Almost as pissed as I was at him. Stupid rookie mistake! I should've seen it coming – but I didn't. And honestly, even if I had, I still might not have been able to brace myself because of my damn ankle. But still…

I was good and fuming when I rounded that boxcar. I was also wondering just how the hell I was going to catch up to the little creep if I had to run much further. Adrenaline got me up and going, but how long would it last? Goddmaned fucking ankle and that little twerp that tripped me with the pool cue in the first place! Maybe this time, I'd busted it – and would I even know if I had?


End file.
